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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24639802">Bury Me in All My Favorite Colors</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/positronic/pseuds/positronic'>positronic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Confusion, Crying, Heavy Angst, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Memories, Unreliable Narrator</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:54:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,604</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24639802</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/positronic/pseuds/positronic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Once, years ago, Tony thought he would have gone out in a blaze of glory. One last hurrah before he took a bow and departed from this hellscape of an Earth, people crying and in mourning as he left behind a legacy of innovation and scientific advancement.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Rogers/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Team Angst</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bury Me in All My Favorite Colors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I don't really write angst, but that bingo square called to me like a siren. </p>
<p>Thanks to resurrectedhippo and athletiger for the beta!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Once, years ago, Tony thought he would have gone out in a blaze of glory. One last hurrah before he took a bow and departed from this hellscape of an Earth, people crying and in mourning as he left behind a legacy of innovation and scientific advancement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not once did he think he would be here, bleeding out on the floor of some abandoned house in the suburbs of Oklahoma of all places. Or was it Kansas? Who cared. Apparently, he was bleeding out, but the past couple hours were starting to blur in his mind. He kept getting flashes of… something. Bits and pieces of sensory input, hands running up and down his body, touching him gently, Steve leaning over him, flashing him that blinding smile he fell in love with years ago. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But, wait. That wasn’t right, was it? No. Steve </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> looking over him, now, but there was something wild in his eyes. His gorgeous blonde hair was streaked with red and brown and black. It kind of looked gross, if Tony was honest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, god, Tony,” Steve said, voice frantic, and no, Tony didn’t like that. Why was Steve sad? “Fuck, Tony, you’ll be okay, I promise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What? Was Tony hurt? Oh, yeah. The whole bleeding out thing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He vaguely remembered something about him being shot by some raiders. They had been travelling across… Missouri? In search of food. The hunger had been so bad, clawing at their stomachs as they trekked on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt full, now, though. Full and warm. Very warm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That wasn’t right, either, though. It was cold. He remembered that. He and Steve had decided to camp out in an abandoned gas station for the night. Day. Evening? Because it had been so cold. Then the raiders had come, and Tony had walked in front of them calmly, taking the bullet meant for Steve and shoving it into himself with such care. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why was there so much blood, then? If he had taken so much care to save Steve?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve… Steve was still hovering over him, now. His hands were on Tony’s stomach, pressing a shirt against Tony’s torso. It was warm. Why was Tony shivering then?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A piece of snow fell off the roof above them, exploding into a million tiny snowflakes against the ground, and Tony furrowed his eyebrows. Right. It was cold. He supposed it was, yet his stomach felt so warm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How’d they get here? The last thing he remembered was being on the floor of the gas station. Hah, maybe Steve carried him. That was always hot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, Tony, what were you thinking?” Steve said from above him, and he looked frantic. His face was white behind all the blood and dirt smeared on it, eyes frantic as he looked over Tony’s body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Tony asked, tongue feeling way too big for his mouth. He had no idea what he was saying, or if Steve could understand him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You threw yourself in front of them for me, Tony,” Steve whispered. His voice was thick and tears were streaming down his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve kept one hand firmly on the shirt on Tony’s torso as he used the other hand to nudge Tony further into the corner of the room. The wind was whipping wildly as Steve tried to use himself as a buffer against the cold, pressing as closely to Tony as he could while still keeping pressure on his abdomen. Tony thought he could maybe feel the press of Steve’s legs against his own as Steve straddled his lap, but that didn’t seem important. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony frowned, trying to understand what Steve meant. What was he talking about? He didn’t remember that. But that did sound like something he’d do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was worth it, honey,” Tony mumbled, coughing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, hey! His mouth tasted like metal. That was a novel feeling. Almost like he was back in his workshop, absentmindedly putting a screwdriver in his mouth. Steve would take it out of his mouth, kiss him softly, drag him away from the workshop and into their shared bed. Yeah… that was nice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Above him, he thought he heard Steve make a wounded noise in the back of his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no, baby, it wasn’t— it wasn’t worth it,” he stuttered, and put more pressure on Tony’s torso. It… kinda hurt. Tony frowned and tried to push Steve’s hands away, and he thought he heard a whimper. It could’ve come from his own mouth or Steve’s, but he had no idea who actually made it. “Shh, shh, Tony, don’t, you need this, we gotta stop the blood and keep you warm. I’m trying to help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Help? What happened?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony shook his head and tried to squirm against the pressure, only to cause Steve to choke out a sob and press his body even harder against Tony, and Tony felt like he was on fire. Steve was nearly encompassing Tony’s whole body now, body acting as a barrier for the wind. Tony’s legs felt cold, though. How could someone feel so cold and so warm at the same time?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The shirt and Steve’s hands and Tony’s torso were covered in red, now, just like his hair and face. Oh, look at that, Steve always liked Tony in red. Said he always looked so handsome in it. He loved when Tony wore those red lace panties for him. Maybe they could do that again soon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tony, Tony, look at me, honey,” Steve begged, and Tony just had to listen to him. He could never deny Steve anything, could he? He looked up at Steve, seeing the pure agony on his face, the fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “You’ll be okay. It’s okay. It’s alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Tony said, not knowing what else to say. If Steve said it was okay, then it was okay, right? It had to be. He trusted Steve with everything in him. His head felt fuzzy again, and his eyelids felt heavy, sleep threatening to pull him under.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, fuck, Tony!” Steve exclaimed. Tony’s eyes opened again. He hadn’t even realized they had closed. “Keep your eyes on me, okay, honey? Pay attention to me. It’ll be okay. We’ll fix this,” he said. It sounded like there was a bit of hysteria to his voice but Tony just let Steve’s voice wash over him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eyes on Steve. Yeah. He could do that. Right? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony nodded and felt another wave of warmth as Steve smiled at him, even though it looked pained.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good, that’s good,” Steve murmured, and Tony tried to smile at him, but he had no idea if he succeeded or not. “Hey. Listen to me, Tony,” he said, leaning down slightly to catch Tony’s eyes again. “You remember that night I first slept over at your place? I was so nervous to make sure I made a good impression, then I went ahead and fell asleep on your couch, only to wake an hour later screaming my head off from a nightmare. I thought that was it, you know? I thought I was going to scare you off for good, but you just sat with me and ran your hands through my hair, talking to me softly until I fell back asleep. You remember that, sweetheart?” he asked, voice catching on the endearment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tony… Tony thought he remembered that. His mind was a mess of fragments, shattered like broken glass, glimmering and catching his attention if the light hit them just right. Something in there seemed like the story Steve was telling, didn’t it? Tony thought so, so he nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… I remember,” he mustered. He didn’t know for sure if he actually did remember or not, but that seemed like the answer Steve wanted to hear. He’d give Steve anything he wanted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve seemed to like that answer, after all, as he smiled once again. It didn’t reach his eyes like it normally did, and Tony wanted to frown, wanted to fix whatever it was that was bothering him, but his might felt heavy, thoughts moving around like slugs against concrete. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never felt more at home than I did then, Tony. You gave me a home, there, with you. You accepted me for whoever I was, and I never feel more loved than I do when I’m with you,” Steve said, voice breaking as more tears rolled down his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The words… Tony knew the words were important. What Steve had said. They were important. But nothing in his mind seemed to grasp them. He wanted to, wanted to tell Steve what he told him those nights where they held each other close as they soothed away their fears, what he told him those mornings filled with the smell of fresh coffee and pancakes, but the words felt so far away. It was too much energy to reach after them, pull them in close to his heart like he wanted to. That last statement, though, seemed to stir something in him; he let out a breath, head lolling back against the wood? Concrete? Metal? Floor behind him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you,” he said. Or, he thought he said. Words seemed to be escaping him, his tongue feeling too heavy to move. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He must have said something, because Steve was suddenly saying many words. His voice was high pitched, frantic, ghosting over Tony’s brain in an onslaught of input, but nothing seemed to catch. Everything felt heavy and light, too loose and too tight, and those sweet tendrils of darkness seemed to be pulling at him again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He let Steve’s voice wash over him, letting the darkness take over him.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written for the SteveTony Games!<br/>Square: Huddling for Warmth<br/>Team: Angst<br/>Bonus Prompts: post-apocalyptic AU, “I remember,” “You gave me a home,” “It wasn’t worth it,” and unreliable narrator.</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25512898">[Podfic] Bury Me in All My Favorite Colors</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_casual_cheesecake/pseuds/The_Casual_Sounds">The_Casual_Sounds (the_casual_cheesecake)</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
</div></div></div>
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